Mirror Image
by Nicholas de Vilance
Summary: PT: 2 //MurphyConnorTom// A drifter comes calling in need of a warm shower. The MacManuses welcome him the only way they can. //Run the Wild Fields Xover. Challengefic of Becki's brainchild. Threesome//
1. Marco's Boredom

Nicholas: Oh jesus, this took a while. It's really dirty, too. So if you blush at masturbation or sodomy, it ain't for you, hon. To all my returning readers, I'm glad that you love me, please continue to do so so that I don't wither away like Leonardo DiCaprio did in Total Eclipse. Becki knows what I'm talking about with my mindless, sleep-deprived babbling, if she was listening to said mindless, sleep-deprived babbling before. Speaking of which, Becki beta-ed and bickered, so she's the reason I got this done. We also made a mockery of a whole HELL of a lot of SPF and NR pictures during the making of this fic. You may be able to find them on my MySpace or photobucket within the week if you PM me for the info that'll get you either which-where...anyway, here you are. And you are not mistaken for I DO bite. Good night all, I need sleep now!

Disclaimer: I'm too tired to type out all that bulshit that I don't own this and in fact the respective owners do. And I no longer am a happy leprechaun, so give me back my pot of gold.

Rating: M...sex...language, but mostly sex...sodomy, threesome, domination...SEX!! (I'm a HOOT when I'm tired...falls unconscious on keyboard lk;ajre;goidfan;hnadh;erjmngag)

* * *

Connor saw the last thing he'd expected when he opened the door to his apartment. Well, _their_ apartment because he shared it with his brother—the brother that wasn't supposed to be home right now, neither of them was. The first thing Connor saw (being also the last thing he expected, mind you) was that _his_ bed was currently occupied. By the looks of it, Murphy had some guy pinned down to the mattress by the wrists, frantically kissing him as if he feared just this interruption would come. As the two sat up, automatically detaching from each other and looking with matching wide eyes at Connor, he realized that it also seemed like Murphy had been the one pinned to the mattress. "Th'fuck?" was all he could think to say as he let the door shut behind him.

As Connor ran a hand through his blond hair, contemplating the situation on the bed, he realized that the _one_ thing that made it so he could decipher which was his twin was that Murphy always wore a T-shirt and jeans and this other man was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. They were very _nice_ slacks as well. It looked like there were a pair of twins sitting side-by-side, shifting awkwardly and sharing a quick, guilty glance much the way he and Murph had acted when they been scolded in school.

"'Ey, Conn," it was definitely Murphy in the jeans and T-shirt. He awkwardly lifted his hand to pull at his lower lip in that familiar nervous gesture. Aéquitas showed out in green letters on his index finger. "What're ya doin' here?"

"What, indeed? I live here, ya idjit." The blond wasn't exactly angry—though by rights he should have been. "Who's this?" He motioned to the other Murphy, who's shirt was laying open over his chest. Connor noted that he had a bit more of a muscular build.

"This is Marco," Murphy introduced, glancing to his side almost as though he regretted laying eyes on this guy.

"And you are…?" Marco began, not one bit happy about being left in the dark. Not to mention that he'd come up here to get laid and that wasn't happening at the moment.

Before Connor could reply—and say something nasty by the looks of it—Murphy butt in with: "Tha's me brother, Connor."

"Looks like a jealous boyfriend to me." There was a hint of something from Brooklyn in this man's voice and his posture just _screamed_ that he was someone who'd just gotten out of jail. He was handsome, yes, and his body didn't lack anything to be desired, but Connor knew that this was because of the resemblance to Murphy. They had the same facial structure, the same black hair and even a similar beauty mark (though Marco's seemed to be a lot closer to his nose).

"Jus' shut it, will ya?" Murphy snapped viciously. He gave his twin a shifty, unnerved look.

Shaking his head, Connor went to the fridge and got himself a beer because there was not hope in saying anything else until he'd gotten some alcohol into his system. After taking a long drink, he sat down on the couch and looked once more at the tense pair over on that cot. "Ya really know how ta pick 'em, Murph," he commented ironically. He had to hand it to his brother that, in his own opinion, this was a wonderfully tasteful choice of one-night stands. Still, the eerie similarities between them made for some strange uncertainties about Murphy's vanity. "Ye can calm down, I'm not gonna shoot ya, Jesus."

With a relieved sigh, Murphy's back let out some of the tension so he could slouch a bit. "Tha's a relief, I was beginnin' ta wonder."

"S'not like I said ya couldn't fuck other guys…I just didn't think ya'd sneak around b'hind me back."

"Wasn't sneakin' around," Murphy defended himself indignantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Would ya really want me ta go up ta ya an' say, 'hey Conn, I have a hard-on an' since yer busy m'gonna find some random smuck ta fuck.' No offense meant." He offered the last bit to Marco, who up until then had grown very quiet.

"None taken," he muttered with a shrug.

"I see yer point." Connor interrupted himself with another swig, gulping down the bubbly liquid like supplement air. "Still don't get why ya chose someone tha' looks almost exactly like ya. Hm…he seems like my kind o' guy really." Then he suddenly felt like he was being rude, so he turned to the guest. "Sorry, kinda ignorin' ye, aren't we?"

"Nah, it's fine. This is an interesting conversation. I thought you were brothers."

"Ya wouldn't fuck yer brother?" Murphy asked flatly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Of course, both brother's knew that it wasn't—a fact that they delighted in ignoring. "That's not the point tho'…Conn—?"

"I hope I'm not stoppin' ya."

Immediately, Murphy's brow furrowed in something like surprise and confusion. When he saw his life-long friend standing there he'd been sure that he was caught and ready for the gallows. Apparently, he shouldn't make assumptions. "What d'ya mean?" he asked, slowly, carefully.

Setting his beer can on the floor by his feet, the blond leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees. "I mean, ya don' have ta stop what ye were doin' just 'cause I'm here."

"Huh?"

"Stop bein' thick-skulled. I wanna watch, dumb-ass."

Clearing his throat, Marco gave a wry chuckle, once more attracting the twins' attention. "Damn, Murphy…I thought _you_ were a slut."

It shouldn't have, but that statement sent a thrill down the spines of both Connor _and_ Murphy. The blond had just received thoughts of what Murphy may have done to deserve that comment, and the raven-haired twin was deciding how to take that. "That sounds like a challenge ta me," he hissed with a playful glare at his bed-partner.

Connor chuckled lightly at hearing Marco's muffled surprise with Murphy pushed him down to the position they'd been in before. He'd never really understood the reason for pornography and stuff like this, and he's certainly never done anything like this before, but that doesn't mean he hadn't _thought_ about it. Watching complete strangers fuck on screen was pointless. Watching his _brother_ push himself down on a mirror image and claim the man's mouth and body in a matter of moments…_that_ had purpose and definitely retained some sort of artistic perfection. Or at least…it made him harder faster than anything else could have.

The two struggled for a time, Marco stubbornly trying to gain control while Murphy grabbed at his wrists and pinned them to the pillow above his head. A few seconds passed before finally Marco managed to wriggle free and turn the tables. Murphy giggled quietly and clung to his partner kissing at his neck where the collar of that dress shirt had fallen away. As his back pressed against the mattress, he felt hands pry his shirt up and off and wondered for a moment how Connor was faring by himself on the couch. It was a lost thought when Marco pushed him down and kissed him hard on the throat, then bit lightly. The Irishman squirmed and wrapped his arms around the other, a small cry coming forth from his tight throat.

White fabric was yanked down shoulders and off so that Murphy gained access to firm, muscular shoulders. It was something to hold on to as his jeans were being assailed with a vengeance. When the fly just _wouldn't _come undone, Marco began to wonder if this was some sort of plan against him, maybe the people that ran this shithouse called life just really wanted a pissed off, horny Marco Vindetti on their hands. "Fucken thing," he snapped unhappily.

Murphy took the other's chin in his hands and kissed him again—a bit of a laugh in his eyes—and then reached down to get the stubborn buttons loose so that the man could be appeased with old jeans hitting the floor with the shirts. He hadn't been wearing underwear of any sort; there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the snicker he heard coming from somewhere to his left was Connor at the commando tendencies. By this point, he was definitely planning to put on a show for his brother when he reached down and gripped his hands tightly over the other's ass.

It wasn't hard at first to just sit there and watch. Connor stared intently at the movements that he knew so well as Murphy and the new ones he thought clashed. Marco had a rough, almost abrasive way of touching and grasping and an animalistic growl tugging at the back of his throat. While Murphy retained a rather cool, controlled finesse in grinding up against the other, Marco straddled him and held him roughly. Ironically, the blond liked it—liked seeing it. The way Murphy's breath sped up, his barely detectable whine: all the trademarks of his arousal made Connor realize that just watching was going to be harder than he'd thought. He squirmed slightly in his seat, pressing his hand against a steadily growing bulge in his jeans and listened as Murphy muttered something he didn't catch.

Marco heard it quite well being that it was whispered right into his ear. "Enjoy topping, because you aren't staying there."

With a scoff, the Italian pushed down on his shoulders and silenced him with a brutal kiss. He reached between them to undo his jeans, liking that Murphy was shivering below him; liking that Murphy panted and whimpered at the touch of his tongue and the press of his fingers. The metal clasp of his slacks slid undone, but Murphy then grabbed his hands and pulled them away.

Their mouths joined zealously once more; Marco felt something pushing him down from behind. His hands slammed into the mattress on either side of Murphy's head to steady himself from falling over. As his partners arms wrapped around his waist, he was aware of another hand locked in his hair and the pair to that tracing down his spine. With an alarmed squeak, he tried to break away, but found that he couldn't. A weight pressed down on him and the mattress sank behind him. That and the way Murphy chuckled into his mouth told him that the brother had decided to join.

"Sorry," Connor hissed in Marco's ear, "Murphy doesn't take it from anyone but me."

As quick as that, the twins somehow managed to get him on his back and Murphy nestled down between his legs before unzipping his slacks. Marco's feet went skyward as the pants were slid off. Then went his boxers and he just stared uncertainly at Murphy above him with Connor's head bobbing over his shoulder, pecking him tenderly on the cheek. He didn't get it at first, but then realized that maybe it was some weird comfort thing for them as twins—though he honestly couldn't place a time where he'd ever heard a man claim his _brother's_ chastity. "So much for watching," he muttered grumpily as Murphy crawled over him and once more got his wrists pinned down to the blankets.

"Can't take the pressure," was all the blond would say to it.

Dipping his head down, he licked a wet line over the bumps of the small of Murphy's back and the shiver that shook him in turn made Marco blush a bit hotter. He met Connor's blue eyes as the ebony-haired twin nipped and pecked at his chin. "-_as pris les condoms, mon amoureux,_" Murph muttered.

Marco had this feeling that it was directed at Connor, being that he didn't know the language, but the one word he did recognize sent a thrill through his gut strait into his erection. Bucking up, he tried to grind against the other to get some friction. Even hearing a chuckle in his ear didn't give him enough cause to try to control his actions. Too much was happening too fast, and he didn't want to miss it. He craned his neck to watch a shirtless Connor slip off the bed—removing his jeans on the way—and disappear obviously to retrieve said protection.

Pale hands with long fingers curled under the backs of his knees and pulled his legs up as Murphy moved downward and pressed biting kisses on his pecs. The bed sank once more and the twin reached over to receive the small, square package at the same moment that Connor offered it, not even breaking his concentration—it was almost as if he'd sensed the offer. Anyway, he kept it tucked between two fingers as he pushed the legs up and his kisses moved lower on Marco's abdomen. Sweat oozed out of every pour of the man's body as Murphy's lithe, talented mouth descended on his arousal. Connor carefully crept over his brother and took up the occupation of pinning Marco's hands down.

Every breath started to come a little bit faster than the one before it; Marco felt his legs flew on their perch on Murphy's shoulders. "Oh god," he murmured. After a beat, Murphy sucked hard on him and Connor leaned in to lick at a nipple. The Italian moaned and pushed his head back into the pillow. "You're trying to kill me…"

Murphy said something that only resulted in a vibrating warmth that shot strait through Marco. "He said 'we just got started'," Connor translated.

It wasn't needed though because just then the pale-skinned, dark-haired Irishman then abandoned his blowjob to open that lubricated condom and slip it on. "Stay alive fer a few more minutes, I'm havin' fun," he snickered moving his head down again. He felt his brother back off and knew that it was so he could see better. His mouth just passed it's previous occupation and he shoved Marco's legs higher still and licked at his tight opening.

Both the blond and the Italian gave a similar responding sigh. That is, until Murphy delved his tongue into that hole, making Marco squirm and grasp his hair with now-freed hands. Proportionally, the tongue is the strongest muscle in the body and this dark-haired slut just proved that without a doubt in Marco's mind. He gave a loud, hoarse exclamation expressing the raw heat and pleasure he was getting from this man just with this act alone. Too soon—and too suddenly—Murphy's tongue withdrew and decided to instead draw lines up his current lover's abdomen.

The backs of Marco's knees formed a perfect cup over each of Murphy's shoulders and Connor's fingers dug deep into his brother's hips to push him insistently towards the actual penetration that Murphy loved to teasingly avoid until the last minute. Hearing the cry that the Italian gave and knowing that it was his twin that did that made Connor slightly light-headed. His lips started to tingle, just so slightly, and he knew what from and how to remedy it. After turning the other's head to the side, he imposed an awkward kiss over his shoulder. That was when his hands began to trace and stroke in a long, upward journey the contours of the terrain that he knew so well until he held his closest friend in a tight embrace. Murphy's hips were barely moving, a slight _inoutinout_ pace that caused as little friction as possible and Connor knew he was doing it on purpose.

"C'mon, Murph, faster, harder," he whispered and heard a responding agreement in the form of a nod and a grunt from the man on his back. Connor was hard—had been since he'd walked in on this scene, really—but now he was throbbing. "Get him goin' so I can get ye goin'."

Murphy's delighted chuckle was lost in an exerted grunt of his body jerking a bit more this time to drive into the other man. "Do it," he demanded in a low hiss.

"I think I will."

And just as Connor reached around for another condom, he caught sight of aéquitas and another finger slipping behind Marco's kiss-swollen lips and wondered just what his brother was planning. The man absently sucked on the digit, eyes closed, body tensed as tight as a guitar string. Successfully, the blond's hand returned with a square, silver package and he ripped it open. Murphy's fingers were extracted with a sound pop and Connor had to catch his breath so he didn't pass out at seeing Murphy reach behind him and shove those fingers deep inside himself. His hips bucked sharply involuntarily and Marco's eyes shot open to see why.

"Okay," the Italian panted, "I admit it…you're a slut, Murphy."

Connor's arms wrapped around the other's shoulders and his face nuzzled into the dark locks of hair on Murphy's head. "I couldn't agree more."

"Hn…better believe it." His smirk was slightly strained because of the division of his concentration on both fucking the one-night-stand impaled on him and "preparing" himself for his lover.

After a few more moments, Connor couldn't take it anymore. He felt certain that he would explode if Murphy kept up with this. Pulling the other's hand away, he bent him forward just slightly and wriggled his way under his thighs to seat him snugly on his arousal. Murphy gasped and hitched as he always did, the difference this time being that the chain reaction made Marco flinch and then whimper as the thrusts into him intensified. It didn't take more than a few moments to find the perfect rhythm to catch his twin on the withdraw and make it as deep as possible each time.

"Oh fuck!" That was Marco.

"Shit…shit…shit…" Murphy.

Connor just took to muttering some weird quatrain in Latin, but even Murphy couldn't make out what he was saying. The springs screeched and the bed frame shook with the force of increasing passion between the three men. Marco reached above his head for the headboard and then gripped it until his knuckles were white. His head was bent back as far as possible—purposely avoiding looking at the twins because he knew that it would just set him off and make this end quicker. Murphy twisted his neck as much as possible to capture his brother's mouth in between hoarse, whispered "shit"'s and Connor's rhythmic chanting. They were the three of them lost to the fire.

* * *

Marco woke up the next morning with a brother on each side of him, each had an arm and a leg slung over his naked body. A chilly shiver snaked through him when he realized that they hadn't bothered with a blanket before falling asleep—unconscious from exhaustion. He looked to his left to see Connor's blond hair and tanned skin pressed against him seamlessly. On his right was Murphy's opposite appearance laying somewhat aloof, though still keeping contact. He'd heard about men fantasizing about having some pair of lesbian "twins" in their beds, but he doubted it was often that a guy got to wake up with true twin brothers that loved each other this way. It made him feel a bit awkward, really.

Carefully, he wiggled out from under discarded limbs and sat up on the edge of the cot. As he was holding his head—a bit of a headache pounding behind his eyes—he heard movement behind him. When he looked back, Murphy had rolled over into the empty space he'd vacated and cuddled up close to his brother. A strange smirk crossed his face as he fished around the floor for his boxers and slacks. _Man, that was an interesting night,_ he thought ironically.


	2. Tom's Corruption

Nicholas: Becki's Challenge. She wanted smut, but I decided to surprise her by making this a different crossover of Run the Wild Fields instead of Deuces Wild. I hope you like it. Becki and I decided that Tom needed to be a bit corrupted.

* * *

Murphy stares intently towards the showers, even though he's supposed to be looking at the TV like his brother sitting beside him. For a while, Connor tries to ignore the fact that Murphy had his eyes locked on another man. Sure, he was a very _good looking_ man, but a drifter whom they let use their shower just out of the goodness of their Irish Hearts. And the dark-haired twin had damned, wandering eyes; it was annoying. "Ya want ta take a picture?" Connor asks grumpily.

Abruptly, the other is taken aback. "What?" Hesitantly, he turns away from the radiant, naked figure in the steamy depths at the far end of their flat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there isn't much ya could be doin' ta him as far as undressin' him with yer eyes goes." The blond doesn't even turn away from the TV set and the remote in his hand as he flips through the channels.

With a questioning look, Murphy contemplates his brother's mood. "Oh I see," he mutters mischievously. The revelation has fallen on him, but he's torn two ways. "Either yer jealous that m'not savin' me eyes fer ye—which I understand, tho' I told ya time an' time again that when I'm horny there en't much I won't look at far as naked people go—or _ye_ want ta be the one ta fuck him."

There was a sharp crack as the remote makes brutal contact with Murphy's raven-bristled head. "I'll give ya one more scenario ta try an' hammer its way inta tha' thick skull o' yers. Maybe _I'm_ not as narrow minded as you."

"Fuckin' liar. Fraternal or no, we still have the same tastes." Trying not to make a show of rubbing the sore spot on his head, Murphy directed his twin's line of sight in the direction of the rushing water through rusty, old pipes. "I mean, look at'im. Strong legs, firm ass, square tense shoulders. He's tanned like a farmer an' well-built too. At first glance, I might e'en mistake him fer you on the street. Golden hair, lean frame…he's a sexy one, he is…Jus' like someone _else_ I know." Pale fingers traced up Connor's jaw with a light, tickling stroke.

"Oh shove it up yer arse."

"Stop bein' so glum or I might have ta go find some other release fer this." He grips himself through his jeans and jerks his head in the stranger's direction.

Almost immediately, Connor grips the other's shirt, a clear and possessive symbol of ownership of the other twin. "Knock it off with that, Murph. I en't in the mood fer none o' yer shite." The fabric is harsh and stuffy on his fingers, and the cotton of his own T-shirt feels the same. He needs it off. He tears it up from his back and tosses it on the floor.

"I know what ye _are_ in the mood for. Ya do want ta fuck him."

"Shut it, ya bastard."

"I'm alright with it, ya know."

"Shhhhh…"

"All ya need is ta get _his_ permission."

"Murphy…one more word an' I might be forced ta send ya flyin' down a flight o' stairs…Accident'ly o' course."

Rolls his eyes as he watches Connor get up and toss the remote back down to the couch. He is confused. "Where're ya goin'?"

"Take a piss."

"D'ya need ta take yer shirt off fer that?" Murphy doesn't get a response, doesn't expect to. He just follows his brother's graceful form as he crosses the apartment, just as Murphy knew he would. Getting up, the pale twin moves to sit on the set and get a better perspective of what he wants to see. "That's me boy," he mutters under his breath.

"Hope ye don' mind," Connor stated, not to scare the man he was approaching from behind. He goes to the toilet and unzips his fly to relieve himself. "Ya travel a lot?" he asks to make conversation.

The man looks over his shoulder at the Irishman, trying not to feel out of place in someone else's shower when that someone else is about five feet away from him. "Yeah, I guess I do," he replies gingerly. "Don't get 'round to bathin' of'en, so…"

"Nah, don't mention it." Connor glances behind him at the naked man and tries not to smile too smugly at being able to see every aspect he wants to. "Got a name?"

"Tom. Tom Walker."

"Well, Tom Tom Walker…" Zipping himself up again, he turned to his guest and didn't hide his gaze. "Ya headin' anywhere special?" The other shakes his head and looks away with a bit of a blush. Connor noticed the awkward stance, but still couldn't tear his eyes away. "Then…ya gettin' away from somethin'?" It's a sore subject; the other man flinches, probably from some bad memory. "Sorry, don' mean ta pry."

"It ain't that…just…"

From his seat across the room, Murphy can barely hear what they're saying, but he can see his brother make the first move just clearly. The blond twin hooks one thumb in the belt loop on his pants and then went over to shut off the shower. "Sneaky dog," he mutters, removing his black top and throwing it down next to the other by the couch. He gets up.

Tom's heart is jumping at an alarming rate as the Irishman that looks just like him closes those few inches between them. He's not sure what to do at first, if this is alright or not. Ultimately, he makes the decision to try and smother those harsh, excited breaths and let _tall, lean, tan and handsome_ take hold of his chin and shoulder and press soft lips against his. The steam flutters away, but the heat hangs around leaking down his torso in the form of three fingers tracing skin and an arm wrapping around his waist. Rough denim scrapes between his thighs as his knees buckle slightly.

"M'Connor," the Irishman states, licking a warm tongue along the stranger's jaw. "MacManus. Pleased ta meet ya." Hand explore the hidden depths of a man they've never touched before and then Connor turns him around, placing meaningless, but lovely kisses along untasted skin.

Bare back against bare chest, blond head leaning back next to blond head leaning forward, tan skin slicking across wet, tanned skin. Connor holds Tom like a new toy, one that he hasn't been able to test its durability yet. Arms wrap tightly around the Southern, farmer-boy, touching him, making him whine and moan and mewl like he never had before. He wonders what he is doing, but it quickly occurs to him that he doesn't care so long as he can be held like this longer. He's been alone too long on dark roads, so this unexpected and almost scary contact is more than welcome. Fingers loop around his manhood, fill him with life he didn't have before as it attracts blood to a certain area of his body. "Ungh," he mutters at a bite on his neck.

Until he sees the dark hair and pale skin of the other brother, he has forgotten that he's there. "Gonna share, Conn?" a quirky smirk as another pair of hands, cooler and rougher, run over Tom's chest. "Th'name's Murphy." A pair of thin lips drops down on the drifter's collarbone. Connor says something that might be "Get yer own," but it's muffled by a wet shoulder against his mouth. "Welcome ta the MacManus household."

Suddenly, Murphy's face, pale and stern and statuesque, is gone and dark strands of soft hair stroke over Tom's face. Turning to see better, the drifter is stunned to see such a passionate lip lock between brothers, but his body can't show that. It seems to have forgotten how to do much but hold an erection and hitch at the feeling of warmth and heat around him. Pressure and saliva on his shoulder, dragging down his chest and over his nipple. Connor, behind him, takes hold of his wrists and pulls them back. Tom's hands flex, but he doesn't struggle; struggling would risk moving Murphy from this journey he's taking down the drifter's body.

"I…" Can't make words, can't move tongue right. Two hands pry his thighs apart and Murphy's knees finally touched the puddle tile and soaked up some water as he gripped tight to the tanned hips that were so much like his brother's. He laps carefully at the swelling that his twin has set into this man. Hearing the whimper, he reaches forward to the denim jeans in front of him and pinches the other's leg. Tom's voice goes sharp as teeth set into his shoulder. The stranger's body hitched until Murphy held him still and sucked him into his mouth.

The same moment that Connor released one of Tom's wrists that hand shot up and gripped blond hair—a mixture of his own and the Irishman's. "God…I barely—I barely know you guys."

Zipper down, button undone, pants down. Need to take these things one step at a time so that Connor can get what he wants out of this. Just seeing his twin on his knees doing _that_ has him hard and throbbing. Needs relief.

Tom screams, but it's the good kind of scream. It's the kind that begs for more with just one shrill sound; it lets a piece of his soul flutter like a banshee about the room. His other hand wriggles free and grips the dark hair perched just below his navel.

"Know us better then ya think," Connor grunts, pushing himself in deeper; that tight heat fluctuates and clamps down on the Irishman making them both whine in needed pleasure. A violent tremor shoots through both of them, Connor takes the whole shebang against the shower wall give himself some leverage to drive harder into this drifter.

Murphy makes some accenting noise in the back of his throat. A loud moan raises like that scream and Tom is squirming so wonderfully. The coal-haired brother can feel the force of Connor's thrusts in his mouth and he feels a twinge of jealousy that this stranger gets to feel this too. _Don't use the teeth_, he reminds himself, _he doesn't deserve the teeth._

* * *

Groggy, muggy feeling when he tried to wake up. It has been an awful long time since he's been in a bed, a _real_ bed. An arm is thrown over him and at first he doesn't remember why. Tanned skin matching his own naked flesh. What happened? Why does he ache the way he does? Oh…that's right…

Turning carefully, he looks at the two brothers snuggled together tightly behind him. _Ah Hell_, Tom thinks, trying to find Murphy's face behind Connor's head. They must have slept soundly last night after all that _exercise_ they got. The drifter could distinctly remember lying beside the passion played out by these twins. The mattress had shaken and screeched, but Tom had been too tired to move away or anything. He just watched the one called Murphy fuck his brother senseless into the bed. Now he stares at the now still forms spooned together and wonders perhaps if he should be offended. He isn't.

Sitting up stiffly, Tom rubs the sleep from his eyes and feels better than he's felt in a long time despite the ache and nagging pain in his ass. He'll get over it. His pants are nowhere to be seen, but his bag is still tucked neatly away in the corner. Just as he is about to get up and get it, he feels something on his back. Turning around, he sees Connor's eyes half-open staring at him.

"Leavin' so soon?" the Irishman asks quietly.

"Don't wanna be a bother or nothin'," Tom states, debating whether or not to go back to bed or get his stuff.

"Not a bother, yer just really warm so…" Long, thin fingers trace the spot Tom had been in on the sheets. "…if ya wouldn't mind stickin' around?"

Murphy stirs and then pulls his arm tighter around his brother's waist, but does not object. They look so perfect like that. Even Tom has to admit that he's never seen two people love each other more. "Sure…" he mutters uncertainly. He's back in bed in a few moments and the dark-haired twin reaches to the foot of the bed to get a blanket over them to keep them warm until the light hours of the morning.


End file.
